Wing Commander Junior Novelization Chapter 11
| Chapter 11 | |
|---|---|
| |
| Book | Wing Commander Junior Novelization |
| Parts | 1 |
| Previous | Chapter 10 |
| Next | Chapter 12 |
| Pages | 52-54 |
| Source | Wing Commander Chapter 11, Part Two |
Dramatis Personae
| Part 1 | |
|---|---|
| POV | |
| Speaking | |
| Mentioned |
Text
| UNITED CONFEDERATION CARRIER TIGER CLAW |
| MARCH 16, 2654 1330 HOURS ZULU TIME |
| VEGA SECTOR |
| ETA TO CLASS 2 PULSAR ONE HOUR |
Back in her quarters, Lieutenant Commander Jeanette Deveraux keyed off the shower, wrapped herself in a towel, then found the chair at her small desk. She sat there, staring at the statue of the little dog, a Brussels griffon, that she had ordered from a Datanet catalog. The dog's short, bearded muzzle and blond fur reminded her of Pierre, a stray dog she had adopted as a child. She felt a kinship with that dog and had loved him for ten years before he had died. He lay buried in Belgium, behind the orphanage. Sleep well, my dear Pierre. Sleep well.
Her hatch bell rang. "Who is it?"
"Me."
"You don't want to be here right now."
"Just let me in. Please."
Deveraux stood and shrugged. "You're at your own risk." She touched the keypad, and the hatch opened.
"Single malt ... just for you," Forbes said, holding Lieutenant Todd Marshall's bottle of Scotch.
She glanced at the bottle, then shifted back to her chair but couldn't bring herself to sit. "Trying to bribe me? Well it won't work--especially with his liquor."
"I'm trying to thank you. The flight boss would've brought us up on charges if you hadn't said something."
"He told you we spoke?"
"Not exactly. But I could tell that you had already disarmed him. You're the only one on board who could do that. Raznick hates pilots. We get his flight deck dirty and raise his blood pressure. But you he respects."
"Do you know why?"
Her expression said that she didn't.
"Because I work with him. Not against him. That's simple math. No advanced degree required."
Forbes hid her gaze.
"What were you thinking?"
Biting her lower lip, Forbes stalled. "Well, I wasn't thinking with my head."
Deveraux beat a fist on her thigh. "Rosie, you'll get yourself killed doing that. How could you follow that kind of lead?"
"I don't know."
"Well, let me tell you something. I think--"
"I know what you're thinking."
"I think you're one of my best pilots. I can't afford to lose you."
And that lifted Forbes's head. "Sorry. I was just showing off a bit in front of Maniac."
"Maniac?"
"Lieutenant Marshall. He has a new call sign." Forbes went to a cabinet, removed a glass, and began pouring a drink.
"I hope it felt really good," Deveraux said, driving the point home but realizing that her tone had been too cruel.
"Actually, it felt great."
Forbes handed her the Scotch, and she took a healthy swig.
"See that it never happens again."
"It won't."
Deveraux took another pull on her drink as her friend, now visibly relaxed, sat on the cot and yawned.
Then Forbes stared at her. Deveraux stared back. Forbes looked away, as did Deveraux. Then it all happened again.
"What?" Deveraux asked.
"I don't want to pry, but I've noticed you've been giving special attention to Maniac's friend ..."
She lifted the towel higher over her chest. "Oh, really? I think that's your imagination working overtime."
"He's pretty cute," Forbes pointed out.
Seeing that her Scotch glass stood empty, Deveraux said, "Just shuddup and pour."
Forbes offered her a small amount, and with the lift of her brow, Deveraux gestured for a full glass.
Yes, she did see something in First Lieutenant Christopher Blair.
And that was why it hurt so much.
